The Perfect Moment
by JadeEye
Summary: Darien's just itching to give Serena her Christmas present… 100% angst-free. I swear.


**Title: **The Perfect Moment

**Summary:** Darien's just itching to give Serena her Christmas present… 100% angst-free. I swear.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Sailor Moon. "All I Want For Christmas Is You" is all Mariah Carey's.

**A/N**: This fic is for **Nicole**! She guessed that Motoki would be the next character to appear in STC Season 3 and asked for a Christmas fic! Hope you like it, my dear!

The fic was written to a set of prompts, each of which precedes its respective section.

**o**

**PRESENT(S):**

It was a Christmas miracle. Darien had finally managed to find a Christmas gift for Serena without A) resorting to school supplies (although she did really like that graphinc calculator once he taught her how to play games on it), B) ripping his hair out, C) crawling to Motoki for advice, or D) allowing Asanuma to help him make one. That last one was the most important, in his opinion.

Granted, he was still a little scared that an engagement ring didn't really count as a present. Perhaps he should have gotten Serena something in addition to it? But the jeweler had assured him an engagement gift was the best gift a woman could receive. Of course, said jeweler had also seemed pretty ready to tell Darien whatever he wanted to hear after she'd seen his platinum card and heard how much he was willing to pay for an engagement ring.

That had been a week before. Today, Darien was due to return to the jeweler and pick up the ring he'd chosen, but it had been such a difficult day that he wasn't feeling much of the antipatory excitement he'd, well, anticipated he would feel as he went to pick up the ring. He was currently on his second surgery rotation at the university hospital, and the physician who had originally been his and his classmates' supervisor had backed two days into the rotation. The physician who took over was a sardonic, critical prick of a man whom Darien had had the displeasure of encountering during his ob-gyn rotation several months ago. Dr. Ume was no more polite or less insulting now than he had been then. Moreover, he still hadn't let Darien scrub in yet even though they were nearly two weeks into a rotation, and Darien had spent the day watching procedures from a meter-away distance and boiling at the thought that he might spend six weeks in a surgery rotation without even touching a suture kit.

His phone began to vibrate in his coat pocket. He flipped it open without looking at the number, sliding into his car. "Hello?"

"You rang?" Serena's voice said, laughter-tinged.

Darien deflated. Partly with relief as her voice seemed to go down him like a gentle stroke of his neck, and partly with guilt, because he hadn't meant to broadcast how frustrated he was. Sometimes when they were especially tired or upset their feelings tended to radiate to each other through the rope whether they wanted them to or not. "Sorry. I didn't mean – "

"Less apologizing, more explaining," Serena said. "You felt all happy and then all of a sudden you were the gloom-meister."

He cocked a brow although she wasn't there to see it. "Sounds like someone was eavesdropping."

"I spent the afternoon running to and from Starbucks picking up low-fat frappucinos for the editorial staff," said Serena, a note of his own annoyance touching her voice. "I needed a distraction or five."

Darien backed out of his parking space before answering cautiously. This was a conversation they'd tiptoed around several times before. "If you really feel like you're not gaining anything from that internship, Serena…"

"No. It's not – it's just – " Serena sighed, long and noisy. "Look. I really don't want to think about it right now. I'm done, I'm heading home to have dinner with my family and my super-wonderful boyfriend and I want to hear why you're upset."

Darien hesitated again, wondering if he should pursue the topic further. Serena so rarely got discouraged by things that weren't Senshi-related that he didn't know how to help her when she was, or if he should. Maybe she really did prefer not to think about. He knew that he felt like that a lot of the time…had felt like that _all_ of the time, in fact, before her.

"Darien," she prompted again, and he complied, dropping the subject of her magazine internship and explaining his own unpleasant work situation, trying, if nothing else, to distract her from her own frustration.

"You know," he finished, "I'm so desperate to do something I think I'd even jump at the chance to drain an abscess."

He could practically hear Serena's nose wrinkling. He heard her keys jangle, the scrape of the Tsukinos' front soor as she opened it. "Those are those pus things, aren't they?"

He suppressed a smile. "Yes, they're the 'pus things.' "

"Ugh." She paused. "Wait, you know what? I think I remember this guy. Hi, Mom!" He heard Ikuko's soft laugh, a rustle of fabric, probably a hug. "Wasn't he the one who asked if you had lice?"

Although he was sitting in the privacy of his own car in Tokyo traffic, Darien felt himself turn red. Just from the _memory_ of that humiliation. "Did he?" he said as nonchalantly as he could, as if he couldn't remember such a trivial thing.

"Yes," Serena said, and from the mischief in her voice it was certain that she had felt his true response through the rope. "He did! In front of everyone, remember? That's why you don't like him! He wounded your Leo pride!"

Darien made a grumbling sound. Serena knew full well the circumstances behind that situation. There had been a set of insectoid youma attacking at that time the presences of which always manifested themselves as a fierce itching, usually along Darien's scalp, rather than the usual tingle that signified most youmas' presences. It was early in their encounters with these aliens, before they knew this was the case, that Darien had sensed one during his rotation and begun itching without knowing it, only to be asked bluntly by Dr. Ume in front of the patient they were seeing and all the other residents if "Mr. Shields needed to be checked for lice?"

He heard Ikuko's voice saying something on the other end of the line. Serena related, "Mom says that's horrible. The doctor should've – oh, wait, I'm just gonna turn on the speaker phone, okay?"

A new host of sounds joined Serena's voice: the Christmas music playing faintly in the background in the Tsukinos' kitchen, the sound of Serena's skirt rustling as she kicked her feet back and forth where she was probably perched on the counter, and Ikuko's voice. "I was just telling Serena that it wasn't very professional for that doctor to ask you such a thing in front of all those people, Darien dear," she was saying indignantly. "Why, I remember when Serena in first grade, her teacher asked me in front of all the other parents to get her checked for lice. I was _mortified!_"

"I had lice?" Serena screeched.

"Why else do you think we have all those photos of you wearing shower caps full of mayonnaise?"

"I thought it was just…another one of those cute things I do?" Darien couldn't see Serena but he could imagine the exact batting-eyelashed-look she was using with this remark.

"Randomly putting mayonnaise in your hair _does_ sound like something you would do," Darien remarked. It elicited a growl from Serena and a bark of laughter from somewhere else in the kitchen – Sammy must have been there, too.

"You should've done it with spaghetti sauce instead, Mom," Serena's younger brother said. "Probably would've worked better than mayonnaise for a Meatball Head!"

There was a sound as someone lunged, probably Serena, probably to beat Sammy up for insulting her, and in the ensuing scuffle, Darien heard the phone pulled from Serena's hand and the speaker turned off along with all the extra sounds.

"Darien, dear," said Ikuko calmly into it instead, and Darien had to smile. "When do you think you'll be home?"

Darien smiled more widely at that word. _Home_. "Probably less than an hour, Ikuko-san." He pulled into the jeweler's parking lot. "I just have to pick something up first."

**o**

**Pudding. Family. Carols.**

A few hours later, Sammy was helping Ikuko bring a bowl of vanilla pudding to the table for dessert. He grinned. "Look at this white, fatty food substance! Is it bringing back any memories, Meatball Head? Are you feeling an urge to…" He feigned dumping it on her head. Serena shrieked and jumped backward, out of her chair. Darien caught the bowl as Sammy dropped it and took off into a run, Serena hot on his heels.

"No dessert for either of you if you don't sit down right now!" Ikuko called sharply. "Sammy, if you don't behave I'm going to put you in charge of the video camera for Christmas!"

"Aww, Mom!" Sammy skidded back into the kitchen, throwing himself in his chair. "Why do we even have to tape it? We never go back and watch those videos anyway."

Darien thought privately that he would rather like to watch some of them. He'd seen a few old videos of Serena as a kid, and she was _adorable_.

"Besides, why not make Serena do it? She was the one who initiated the chasing."

"No, I'm pretty sure you were the one who provoked that," retorted Serena. "What with the pretending to dump pudding on my head. And reminding me of…" She stopped and shuddered.

"Your _lice_?" said Sammy happily.

"Make him stooooop," Serena cried, scooting closer to Darien and clutching at his sleeve beseechingly. "It's so embarassing!"

"It shouldn't be," Darien said teasingly. She turned her glare on him, and he smirked at her; this was what she got for making fun of his Leo pride. "Having lice is a misunderstood affliction. They only like clean hair. So it's almost a compliment if you've gotten them because it means you're a very clean person."

"You want clean?" Serena said. "I'll _wipe_ that smirk right off your face." But instead of threatening she sounded delighted with herself for the pun.

"Honestly," Sammy said with a Cheshire grin that made him look scarily like Serena, "would you two cut it out with all that dirty talk?"

Kenji, who had been zoning out in a food coma listening to the news playing softly on the radio, suddenly sat up straight, glowering at Darien. "Wha? None of that inappopriate stuff at my table, young man!"

Ikuko bustled back into the dining room with a rack of spices and wafer cookies. "You don't get to comment on the conversation if you can't keep track of it, Kenji," she scolded, patting him on the shoulder. "Now, who wants cinnamon on theirs?"

It was too cold for Darien and Serena to go sit on the porch swing after dinner the way they usually did when Darien had come over for dinner (Kenji wouldn't let them be alone in Serena's room together – sometimes when Kenji looked at him, Darien had the most unsettling feeling that Kenji _knew_ what they had gotten up to on Darien's kitchen floor all those years ago), but they did anyway. Serena had bundled herself up in the puffy lavender parka that she had spotted at the mall a few weeks ago and insisted that she _had_ to have it because it was the exact color of Neo-King Endymion's tuxedo, an observation that made Darien wince every time he looked at it. Darien didn't really need a jacket, what with being able to regulate his temperature with the Golden Crystal, but Ikuko fussed when she saw that he didn't have one and began to talk of lending him one of Kenji's. Darien didn't really fancy wearing one of Kenji's jackets any more than Kenji did, so he went to his car and rummaged in the box he had picked up from Human Resources for Motoki that morning.

His friend, also doing his rotations in the hospital, although he was in peds this month, and working toward being a nurse practitioner, had volunteered to play Santa in the Christmas celebration that was held each year for the children in the cancer ward. He was on his night rotation this month, and kept forgetting to pick up the costume, so Darien had decided to do him a favor and get it, then drop it off at Toki's place. For now, the pile of red velvet and fake white fur was still in his car, and he pulled it out to wear so Ikuko would be satisfied and stop trying to push Kenji's winter coat on him. It worked: when she saw him with it she laughed, shaking her head, and went back inside.

Serena, already sitting on the swing and pushing back and forth, watched him with a wide grin, burrowing her chin into the collar of her coat. "Trying to relive high school, are we?"

He rolled his eyes at her, shaking out the coat to pull it on. Something fell out of it onto his foot as he shoved an arm through one sleeve, and he jumped backward, alarmed.

Serena laughed, scooting forward and reaching down to pick it up. "It's the beard!" Sure enough, it was, a mass of fake white hair that matched the ones streaming out from beneath the long red Santa hat he'd shoved on his head.

"I call dibs," Serena said, and looped the beard's fastenings over her ears, grinning widely over the thick white curls.

He rolled his eyes again, sitting down. "Seriously, Odango?"

"My face is cold!" she protested, wriggling into him so that he had no choice but to lift his arm for her. He put it around her shoulders, and she made a contented sound, snuggling into his side.

He _was_ much warmer now, though he didn't know if it was because of the lined Santa coat or Serena's proximity. The velvet box with the ring inside it seemed to be burning a hole in his pants pocket. He pulled it out, surreptitiously, turning it over in his hand. Was now the right time? He'd been planning to wait until Christmas, but – this felt like a good moment. Like it could be _The_ Moment.

Darien palmed the box and shifted slightly. He was going to have to be careful about the kneeling with the bench still swinging; he could just see him beginning, "Serena, will you marry – oof!" and getting cut off mid-proposal as the bench hit him in the face. He could _see_ it.

He braced his foot against the porch instead, stopping the bench's motion. Serena pulled away slightly, looking up at him. "Darien - ?"

"THY LEAVES ARE SO UNCHAAAAANGIIIING~!"

Darien flinched slightly as Serena let out a laugh and rocked forward, sending the bench swinging again. "Look, carollers!"

Sure enough, a group of them was gathered at the Tsukinos' front gate, little more than shadows in the dusk and faint multi-colored icicle lights strung from the Tsukinos' roof. As Darien watched, one of them leaned over, opening the Tsukinos' gate, and they filed inside, still singing.

He shifted a little uncomfortably. "They're coming inside."

"Oh, yeah, Mom always leaves the gate open for them," Serena said. She frowned a little. "They're usually in better tune, though."

Darien's discomfort only grew as the group – he counted eight of them – didn't stop on the front walk but instead went onto the snowy lawn so that they were standing in front of where Darien and Serena were, singing right to them. He avoided eye contact, hastily pushing the ring box back into his pocket, as the group segued into "All I Want For Christmas is You." A dull flush burned his neck, and he tried to pull his arm surreptitiously from around Serena's waist.

"Ho ho ho!" said one of them, from the back. "No need for that! Why, you two are practically married!"

Darien's heart leapt in alarm – and then his mind clicked. He took in the way each of the carollers had hats pulled down and scarves wrapped so tightly around their faces that only their eyes were showing; the female caroller in the snowman sweater who was very, very tall; the male one who was was wearing familiar combat boots with buckles all up and down them…and now that he knew to look, that one who had shouted the remark and looked to have blond curls springing from under of his hat –

"_Asanuma_," he growled.

It wasn't a loud growl, but the carollers in front of them all had superhuman hearing. The song dissolved into gasps and laughter and a disappointed boo from either Mikai or Mina, probably, and a mad scramble for the gate as Darien got to his feet, about to vault right over the porch banister to take off after them, the nosy traitors. Serena grabbed him by the back of his coat, though, also laughing breathlessly, keeping him by her.

"Bye, _Santa_!" Asanuma called from the gate, and flung a handful of red and green at them. It landed in Serena's lap. They looked down at it as the sound of their friends faded down the street.

Serena tilted her head. "Mistletoe."

Darien grumbled, still glaring at where Asanuma and the others had been. A flush was filtering across his face as he realized he'd been wearing the Santa coat the whole time. "He shouldn't be throwing it at people. The leaves are poisonous, you know."

"That's why you kiss _me_, not the leaves," said Serena, and tugged at his coat to pull him in. He turned but had to stop when he looked down into her expectant face, smothering a snort of laughter.

"Odango, you've gotta take the beard off first."

Her eyes opened, and crossed a little as she peered down at the white curls still looped around her chin. Her eyes flicked up to his, and they both burst into laughter.

**o**

**Roasting By an Open Fire**

The next day, Christmas Eve, Darien was over again – although he was coming over the next day for the Tsukinos' family Christmas celebrations, Ikuko had insisted he come on Christmas Eve, too. And although Darien wasn't popping The Question for at least another twelve, he was all sweating palms and pounding heart already. Serena kept giving him weird looks, and Ikuko checked his temperature ("You don't look so well, Darien dear, I hope you aren't getting sick…")

His symptoms were less from what he had planned for the next day than for what he had planned for after dinner. Which was asking—no, _telling_ Kenji that he was going to propose to Serena.

Dinner ended all too quickly, and instead of helping clear off the table like he usually did, Darien followed Kenji to his den, where the older man liked to grab his afternoon paper to take into the living room to read with the rest of the family. Kenji turned to raise a brow at him when he realized Darien was following and sat down behind his desk. Frowning, he studied Darien. Darien began to sweat again, feeling like he was one of those chestnuts put in front of a fire to roast, or perhaps a kernel of corn put there to burst open into a fluffy piece of popcorn. He certainly felt as though he might pop at any moment.

"Uh…" he began.

"I know what you're here for," Kenji said. "No."

"Sir – "

"No."

"But – "

"_No_."

Asked later, Darien would have a difficult time explaining what came over him then. A combination of frustration, indignation, and just plain nerves. A healthy helping, in other words, of adrenaline. He spun, stomped out of the den and into the dining room where Serena was wiping off the table, slammed down on his knee in front of her so hard that he nearly toppled over, and said, "Serena Ilene Tsukino, will you marry me?"

Staring down at him with the widest eyes he'd ever seen, Serena said, "YES!"

Bursting out of the den, Kenji said, "NOOOO!"

Brandishing her scrub brush, Ikuko said, "Kenji Kyosuke Tsukino!"

Holding the Tsukinos' video camera to his eye, Sammy said, "This is _so_ going on Japan's Funniest Home Videos."

**o**

**Christmas Tree**

Ikuko dragged Kenji and Sammy out to the car after that, ignoring all of Kenji's protests with a firm insistence that the newly-engaged couple be given privacy for a few hours. "The rest of us will go see Christmas lights," she said, and when Sammy looked about to protest, Darien slipped him a twenty. Sammy abruptly shut his mouth, grinning.

"This is the start of a lovely relationship, bro," he said.

Left behind, Serena flopped down on her stomach on the floor next to the Christmas tree, fiddling with the video camera Ikuko had forced Sammy to leave behind. Darien lay tentatively down beside her, feeling slightly dazed. This was not how he had planned this at all. And why did he feel as though he'd forgotten something…?

"Here it is!" Serena exclaimed, and Darien realized what she was doing: rewinding the camera footage so she could watch his horrendous proposal again. He let out a groan almost as bad as the one that had escaped him the time Beryl's crystal had impaled him (well, times, plural) and slung an arm over his eyes to cover the flush he could feel traveling down his face.

"So much for the perfect moment," he muttered angrily at himself as he heard the tinny voices coming from the camera's speaker.

The voices stopped. He heard Serena set the camera down, felt her wriggle closer. "What was that, dear?" she said impishly.

Darien's flush darkened. At least the room was dark except for the multicolored glow from the Christmas tree's lights. "Nothing."

"You were waiting for the perfect moment?" He could hear the _I'm torturing Darien_ grin in her voice. "That's so cute. It _almost _makes me forgive you." She pulled his arm off his face, settling on his chest so that her forearms rested along his clavicle. Her buns brushed the tree branches they were lying under, shaking the tree, and the blue, red, and yellow glows cast by the lights swung across her face and her shiny hair. It made her look ethereal despite the accusing expression on her face. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you only asked me to marry you just now to make Daddy mad."

Darien felt a guilty expression cross his own face. "I went in there to _tell_ him I was going to ask you," he said in his defense. "Making him mad was just…a spillover benefit."

Serena ground her chin into his sternum, not quite painfully, but still punishingly. "I don't know what that is. It sounds like a muffintop."

He frowned, shifting to put his fingers between her chin and his poor chest. She just rested her cheek on top of his hand instead. "And _I_ don't know what _that_ is."

He felt her grin against the back of his hand. Then she pinched him, very low down on his hip. He jerked involuntarily. "Serena!"

"What?" she said innocently. "I was just teaching you what a muffin top is…"

"I'll teach you top," he said, and flipped them over.

Half an hour, several muffled laughs, and two ornaments stuck in Serena's hair later, Serena's hands suddenly tightened in his hair. Darien took this as a signal to move the attentions of his mouth downward, but she laughed breathlessly and pushed at him again. "Wait, Darien, stop, I just remembered something!"

Darien groaned and pulled away, opening his eyes. Serena was flushed and mussed and grinning. "I just remembered," she said again. She lifted a hand and waggled her fingers beneath his face. "Where's my ring?"

Darien's mouth fell open. How had he managed to forget to give Serena the _ring_? God, you'd think he _hadn't_ rehearsed the proposal in his head five hundred times… He reached into his pocket. "It's right – "

Crap.

Serena sat up. "What is it?"

"It's – " Empty. His pocket was empty. His mind went into hyperdrive, retracing his steps over the past twenty-four hours, and – damn. "I think I left it in that Santa coat."

Serena didn't even have the grace to look surprised or sorry. She just collapsed with laughter as Darien rolled to his feet to reach all the way into his pockets, then turned them inside out, to no avail: they were both completely empty. He groaned under his breath.

Then went rigid again as a familiar sensation danced across his senses.

Serena stopped laughing. Her eyes met his—and they both dove for the door.

**o**

**Nutcracker**

There were three youma terrorizing the last-minute shoppers in a nearby shopping plaza near Akihabara. A rat as tall as Tuxedo Mask was hissing at anyone that came close; a purple thing that was glittering and faintly human-shaped with wings was sending people to sleep with the glittering dust falling from her wings as she hover above them; and a man-sized nutcracker was marching stiffly across the street.

"At least that one doesn't look too bad," Sailor Moon began…just as the nutcracker stopped beside a tinsel-festooned streetlamp, opened its wooden slat of a mouth, and closed it around the metal. The pole squealed and bent, crashing down across the street.

Moon said, "On second thought, I'll take the giant rat."

She leapt away, and Mask was left studying the nutcracker. From the auras he and Serena had sensed of these youma, whatever the heck they had been created by, they weren't terribly strong, so Serena had called Lita on the way to let her know there was a youma but that they didn't need help. Lita promised to pass the message on to the others, humming a few teasing bars of "All I Want for Christmas Is You" before Serena disconnected the call.

The mere memory was enough to distract Mask for a moment; the nutcracker snatched the chance, hurtling at him like a giant, painted wooden bullet. Eerily, it made no sound at all, just grinned emptily at him with its gaping mouth and painted eyes.

Mask leapt out of the way barely in time, whipping his cane out of his sleeve. No sooner had it come out than he heard a crack and felt a spray of splinters pelt his side; the nutcracker had decimated his cane. Instinctively, Mask lashed out with a wave of fire – or what should have been fire. Instead, it was just reasonably hot air. Having rarely used his powers to summon fire outside of training, which took place in the pleasantly temperate Elysion, Mask wasn't used to heating air to flashpoint in cold weather. It must require much more heating and energy than he was accustomed to because of the lower initial temperature.

His lapse let the nutcracker attack again. This time the youma got a chunk of Mask's cape in its mouth and yanked, slamming Mask backward. Mask hit a store wall, still gritting his teeth in concentration, and with the impact, fire burst from the air around his hands like wind knocked out of him.

The fire hurtled at the nutcracker and swirled around it. Mask kept up the fire for a full minute, watching the nutcracker's wooden frame crumble to a pile of blackened wooden bits. Then he let the fire die, extinguishing what was left with a clench of his fist, and pushed away from the wall, panting.

The giant rat was nowhere to be seen. Sailor Moon was standing on a particularly glitter-coated portion of the street, surrounding by what looked like very large pieces of sugar-coated candy and licking her fingers thoughtfully.

"Sailor Moon," Mask said. "Please tell me that's not youma dust you're licking off your fingers."

She tilted her head, still sucking on one gloved fingertip thoughtfully. "I thought sugar plums would taste better."

"That was a youma," Mask said. "And you're eating it."

"It was just a giant, magically animated piece of sugar plum," she said defensively. "Like that time Nehelenia's daughter from the future made those sugar cookies gigantic and enchanted them to fight us. You didn't say anything when I ate _those_." She licked another finger, considering the pile of plum bits around her. "Any chance we could hold off on defeating this new set of villains until after Easter? A life-sized chocolate bunny would be the best present _ever_."

**o**

**Santa Claus**

When Mask proposed swinging by the hospital to get the ring from Motoki before going back to her house, Moon proposed staying transformed to do it. "The kids in the ward will be so excited to meet us!"

"I think you're overestimating our popularity, Odango," Mask said, though he made no move to detransform as he fell into step with her, crossing one rooftop and then another.

"What?" said Sailor Moon in mock offense. "People know us! I'm on t-shirts and backpacks! And you're…"

"On adolescent girls' underwear at Hot Topic," Mask said dryly.

Moon flung him a coy look. "I hope you picked up on my hints that I wanted a set of those for Christmas."

Mask tripped his cape and went tumbling down a fire escape.

**o**

Fifteen minutes later, golden sparks having taken care of the nosebleed that Mask insisted had been caused by his intimate encounter with the fire escape, the two superheroes were climbing through a window into a stairwell near the room in the children's cancer ward where Motoki-as-Santa was presiding over the Christmas Eve celebration. Moon was all set to stride inside, but Mask held her back with a hand to her arm. "Wait. Retransform."

Moon gave him a weird look. "Why?"

"These kids have suppressed immune systems from all their meds. The last thing they need is us infecting them with some weird youma germ."

"I didn't realize our transformation sequences were…disinfecting." She tilted her head, smiling slightly as she let her transformation wash over her again. "Do I want to know how you found that out?"

"In microbiology we had to swab our hands to see how effective different types of disinfectants were." Mask shrugged as his own transformation rippled over him, replacing his torn cape and top hat. "I tried doing it using a swab from right after I'd transformed, too. It was the only swab that didn't grow anything in BHI culture." He smirked a little. "It was fun explaining _that _to my professor."

Moon was pretending to yawn, rolling her eyes. He just grinned at her. "Go on and pretend you're bored. I know you think it's hot when I get all scientific."

"All nerdy, you mean," she retorted, but didn't pull away when he wound an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss.

"I think we're forgetting something," she said against his mouth a few minutes later. Mask sighed and pulled away, reaching up to push off his now-askew top hat before going inside to see the kids. Moon caught his hand before he could.

"Leave it on," she said. "It makes you look more _magical_."

"More stupid, you mean," he said, but followed her into the room, hanging back in aloof, mysterious Tuxedo Mask style as Sailor Moon strode in boldly, calling, "How's it going, Santa?"

Motoki didn't have a chance to respond, for there was barely a millisecond of silence between the children, parents, and medical staff glancing over at the superheroes and their explosion of excited gasps, shouts, whispers, and cries of excitement. One little boy with a knit cap pulled over his hairless head shouted, "SAILOR MOON!" in pure delight and took off running toward her like a tiny torpedo.

Sailor Moon caught him up in her arms, beaming at him. Mask was about to warn her to be careful of the colostomy bag at the boy's stomach, but she was already adjusting it carefully with one hand, chattering to him as she waded into the group of wan but now wide-eyed children gathering around her, tugging at her skirt and asking questions or hanging back with their parents as they watched with shy, fervent awe.

Effectively ignored in the glow of Sailor Moon's presence, Mask slunk over to where Motoki sat in a decorated armchair, looking slightly shell-shocked beneath his white wig and beard.

"Weren't expecting us, were you?" Mask said out of the corner of his mouth. "_Santa_."

Motoki looked up at him mutely and shook his head.

Tuxedo Mask returned his attention to Moon and the kids for a moment. She was sitting at a table now, with the boy still in her lap, nodding seriously as a little girl, with a Santa hat perched atop her own pale, bare head, narrated a story with much hand motioning to Moon, who was listening with a solemn expression but twinkling eyes. Another small boy, sitting on the table with his socked feet in Moon's lap and Moon's arm steady at his waist to make sure he didn't fall, was reverently touching the red barettes in her odangoes. A slightly older girl, wrapped up in a blanket and slumping sleepily in her wheelchair, had one of the red and yellow ribbons from Moon's waist in her fingers and was clutching them as a nurse beside her stroked her head. With his heightened hearing, Mask heard two kindergarten-aged girls, who looked like they might be sisters of the girl in the wheelchair, ask Miss Sailor Moon if they could give her a makeover please they were really good at giving braids? Moon laughed an assent, tilting her head to present a streamer of hair to them, and they began to braid it.

Mask realized he was beginning to smile in a rather un-aloof way and cleared his throat. Then again, it was just Toki sitting beside him; it wasn't like it was Asanuma behind that beard, but still. This reminded him that he really hoped Motoki hadn't noticed the ring in the coat pocket. If he found it, he would know exactly what it had been intended for, and Darien didn't want everyone to know yet. He didn't know why, he just…wanted to keep it secret and safe and precious for a while yet. Like a lucky penny in his pocket.

And if Asanuma found out, which he most certainly would if Motoki did because Toki told him everything, then Darien and Serena would be subjected to even more pranks like the one they'd all pulled with the carolling the other night.

Mask knew the course of action he was going to have to take. It shouldn't be hard – Serena often called him Tuxedo Ninja after all…

**o**

Sailor Moon was listening to a confusing but highly entertaining story about how the little girl clinging to her knee had gotten a kitten from Santa the year before when there was suddenly a shout from where Tuxedo Mask and "Santa" were standing. She looked over to see Mask snatching his hand away from Motoki, who looked affronted and not a little angry. He had his hands balled up like he was about to punch Mask.

"Dude!" he shouted. "What the– "

"Tuxedo Mask's fighting Santa!" shouted one child, right in Moon's ear.

"That Santa must be a youma!" cried another – not a child but an adult!

"Get him!" shouted someone else, and there was a mad scuffle as parents grabbed hold of their parents, medical staff sprang for IV stands and oxygen tanks, and kids lunged for Santa.

When the fracas died down, thanks largely to Sailor Moon and a very large-lunged nursing aide, Tuxedo Mask had lost his hat and had two kids clinging to his pant legs and one to his cape. Santa was on the floor, his beard hanging from one ear, wide-eyed, dishevelled, and – definitely not Motoki. It was some slightly older guy with brown hair and stubble who was looking at Tuxedo Mask as if he was crazy and leaning away from him as one of the nursing aides helped him stand up.

"Um," Moon said to him. "Sorry. We – thought you were someone else?"

Several of the younger kids were crying. "What happened to Santa?" whimpered one, and their tears were beginning to spread to the other children. Moon thought fast. "You guys!" she cried, throwing out her arms. "Thank you so much for your help! Santa got put under a spell by youma tonight, so he needed nice Mr. – " She looked at the Santa-impersonator, who glared, then sighed and mouthed, _Kumo_, " Kumo to stand in for him!"

"Then where's Santa now?" sniffled one of the little girls who had been braiding her hair.

"Uh – I said he got put under a spell, right?" said Moon, and from the twinkle in her eyes Tuxedo Mask knew he wasn't going to like what came next. She brandished a gaudy pink pen that had suddenly appeared in her hand. "The spell made him look like Tuxedo Mask so that his the reindeer didn't recognize him! And if the reindeer don't recognize Santa, Santa can't get all over the world tonight to deliver presents! But!" Moon cried before the gasps and devastated whispers could grip the room, "You guys can help him! If we muster up _all_ our Christmas spirit for Santa, it'll break the youma's spell!"

The little boy with the knit cap tugged at her skirt. "What do we have to do, Sailor Moon?"

She grinned down at him. "We have to laugh the biggest, happiest belly laugh we can! Just like this – HO HO HO!" She looked around. "Can everyone do that with me? On three?" There were nods all around, and she grinned more widely. "All right! One…two…three! HO HO HO!"

With the chorus of laughter, which dissolved into giggles, came a flash of light. Tuxedo Mask closed his eyes against the impending transformation. He felt it _sparkle_ all the way down him, and when he opened his eyes, there were white curls obscuring his vision from the top and bottom. He sneezed into the luxurious beard nestling the bottom half of his face.

"SANTA!" shouted the children, and he was treated to the same piling-under that Sailor Moon had received twenty minutes ago.

**o**

**The Night Before Christmas**

A while later, Santa and Sailor Moon said their goodbyes, patting sleeping children on the head and apologizing to parents for all the excitement. They left through the front doors, which felt really weird, and made their way to the rooftops.

Sailor Moon plopped down on the edge of one, dangling her feet over the edge and looking up to watch Darien pull the red hat from his head and rub his scalp vigorously. "Your Santa had improved much, young Padawan."

"I didn't have much of a choice," he said dryly, plopping down beside her. " So, 'muster up all our Christmas spirit?', huh? Could you get any cornier?"

"Oh, be quiet." She began to aim an indignant kick at his legs, then stopped, looking suddenly guilty. "The Luna Pen made you look too much like the real thing. I feel like I'm kicking the real Santa."

"Only coal for you, young lady," Darien said mock sternly, then grinned as he leaned in to kiss her. She shuddered instead, leaning away.

He only grinned more widely, pulling back. "Now you know how I felt when you were wearing the beard."

Moon made a face and gave the pen a little shake with her fingers. The transformation melted from Darien, leaving him in his tux again. He exhaled in relief, pulling off his hat and pushing sleekly gloved fingers through his sweaty hair.

Moon's gloved hand closed around his vest and pulled him in for a kiss. He leaned into it, cupping a gloved hand behind her head and stroking his thumb across her earlobe.

When she pulled away they were were both breathless and grinning. Moon's grin, however, was tinged with expectation. "Well?" she said. "I hope after all that hubbub you got what we came here for."

Mask grinned and turned over his hand. The box was in it.

The mischief drained from her eyes, leaving them nothing but limpid in the moonlight as she looked up at him. He could sense her heart beating, racing fast as it hadn't the first time he'd asked her to marry him, as if it hadn't gotten a chance to do then. _This_ was how it should have been, this breathless moment in the cold moonlight with the whole city stretched out beneath them. With her warm hand still gripping his vest inside his jacket, with the taste of her still on his tongue.

"Serena," he said, his voice so low it thrummed in his chest. Then, touching the crescent moon at her brow: "Sailor Moon. Will you marry me?"

Sailor Moon's smile split her face in two. "Ye – " she began, but he put a gloved finger to her lips.

"Wait. I'm not done yet." He cleared his throat theatrically. "Will you be the meatball to my spaghetti, the peanut butter to my jelly, the cheese to my crackers?"

Moon stared at him for a moment…and burst into laughter. "Seriously, Darien?" she gasped around tears of laughter. "That's even less romantic than last time!"

"It seemed fitting," he said serenely, "considering the way we met, and the way we found out each others' identities."

"Flying test paper, flying shoes, men's cologne." She ticked them off on her fingers, swiping tears of mirth from her eyes with her other hand. "I guess you're right. So, yes – " Her eyes sparkled, "I will be the cheese to your crackers and the peanut butter to your jelly. But not the metaball to your spaghetti!" She punched him in the arm.

"The sugar to my coffee, perhaps," he suggested.

"The bacon to your eggs."

"The salt to my pepper."

"The milk to your cookies!" She was laughing now. "Why are all of these food?"

He lifted a brow at her. "Because it's _you_, Serena."

Her wide grin became something closer to a shy smile. She ducked her head, burrowing under his chin. He pulled her closer, smiling, and whispered into her hair, "The star to my sky."

Such a romantic line could only lead to more kissing, and it did, but Moon pulled away in the middle of it. He sensed her grin against his lips and prepared himself, raising his brows above his mask.

"That was such a cheesy line, Tuxedo Mask," she said, and poked his sleeve. "_Cheesy_! Get it? Another food word!"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Odango, I get it." He pulled her back to him and scratched his head idly with his free hand, watching the few lone cars driving through the streets below them.

After a few contentedly silent minutes, Moon shifted in his arms, commenting, "I wonder why Motoki wasn't being Santa."

Mask reached into his Subspace pocket. "Maybe he texted me." He pulled out his phone, flipped it open. Sure enough, there was a text from Motoki, dated four hours earlier.

_Darien – that Santa hat has LICE. I'm staying home so I won't infect the kids. I let the hospital know, but I thought I'd give you a head's up too since you had the box in your car!_

Tuxedo Mask and Sailor Moon wore identical looks of horror. Moon yanked away from Mask, putting two feet of space between them. Mask…lowered the hand that had just been scratching his scalp.

"Um," said Moon. "I think the proper food word for this occasion is "Oh, _fudge_." "

**o**

_T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house,_

_Not a creature was stirring, except for a louse._

**o**

THE END


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